Home
by droogish
Summary: Ignoring the hot mess that is Season 6. Dan and Blair find themselves.


At first, everything is different to before. Chuck's hand at Blair's back is soothing, not controlling; he introduces her as his girlfriend and the possessiveness in his voice is almost gone. He buys her gifts, tells her every day how beautiful she is and how much he loves her and "I always knew you'd come back to me, Blair. We're meant to be." Blair knows this, knows that she and Chuck are inevitable, but the smiles are more forced than she expected. She doesn't laugh as easily as she thought she would, is too quick to turn her head so his greeting kiss misses the target and lands on her cheek instead.

Everything is how it's supposed to be.

* * *

Dan spends the first two months of the summer growing his hair, drinking copious amounts of champagne, smoking until he's hoarse and screwing Georgina as often as he wants. He writes down words full of hatred and anger and self-destruction, until he has nothing left to give.

"Feel better?" asks Georgina as she reclines on the bed, idly flicking through a magazine.

"Yes" is his reply.

He's never felt emptier.

* * *

Blair wakes up to cold empty sheets. She sits on the window ledge and drinks her tea and tries not to think about whenever she woke in Brooklyn there was always a warm body beside her.

* * *

Dan returns to the Upper East Side just before school starts. He is skinny, tanned and mercifully short haired. Nate smirks when he sees him, Serena can't meet his eyes and Rufus is just grateful to have his son back.

When he gets to the loft, there's not a trace of Blair left behind. The empty space on his shelves where her Audrey collection used to stand makes him lonelier than anything has in the last four months.

He goes out, gets drunk and leaves a rambling voicemail to Blair, telling her exactly why he hates her and what he thinks of her and Chuck and how much he misses her and when he was in Rome he tried to make Georgina watch Nannette and she kept on asking who would be _stupid_ enough to watch, let alone make, a film about an orang-utan and damn, he really, really misses her.

He wakes up the next morning, bins his phone and tries to forget it ever happened.

* * *

Blair sends him an email.

_You thought Georgina Sparks would be culturally and intellectually capable of understanding the beauty of Nannette? You disappoint me, Humphrey._

_B._

She tries not to let it sting when he doesn't reply.

* * *

Six months go by and he finally relents to Nate's boyish enthusiasm and allows himself to be dragged to The Spectator's birthday party. Nate is the only one he cares enough to keep in touch with. Nate is innocent and naïve and worldly all in one body and for all the women he's charmed, Nate knows what it's like to lose the one you love to another.

He's leaning against the bar, observing the passers-by – pink must be in this season, judging by the amount on show. Not that he's exactly innocent in that department as he fiddles with the pink tie that he's kept ever since… _no,_ Humphrey – when he spots her across the room.

It's nothing like the clichés in the movies. There is no melodic orchestral burst as their eyes meet and their bodies glide to one another. Her arm is looped through Chuck's, her smile radiant, but even now he can tell when she's faking.

She's unhappy. _Good_, the vindictive part of him sneers. The rest of his body wants to swoop in and save her.

* * *

He's propping up the bar in a suit that's not entirely unacceptable, a pink tie knotted around his neck that causes Blair to swallow harder than is necessary. She never expected it to hit her like this. Elevators, foyers, beds, Damien Hirst… everything comes rushing back and she feels like she's drowning. Doesn't realised she's gasped until she feels Chuck's hand at her elbow, his eyes searching hers.

She smiles at him, tells him she's fine. They are inevitable. Things may have been strained recently, but they are a couple. They are Chuck and Blair. They'll get through this.

She looks back up and Humphrey's gone. She tells herself she doesn't care.

* * *

It's a year before they see each other again. It's one of Lily's charity galas, and Dan wouldn't be here if he hadn't seen the look on his father's face when he opened the invitation from Mr and Mrs Bass. Alessandra is his date. They've got together, decided they were better as friends, broken up and now they are one another's defaults for events such as these.

He's grateful for Alessandra's presence when in the middle of the gala, Chuck drops to one knee and proposes to Blair. The diamond is huge, the biggest anyone's ever seen, and Dan feels the three glasses of champagne rising up his throat. He looks away as Blair slips the ring on her finger; he doesn't miss the look she sends him.

Help me.

* * *

She's standing in Vera Wang, again. The dress is beautiful, again. She feels sick, again.

She's in love with another man, again.

* * *

Alessandra hands him tickets to London. First class, leaving February 14th. They both pretend they don't know the meaning of the date.

* * *

Blair runs out on her second wedding. This time, she doesn't feel the slightest bit of guilt.

* * *

Dan hears about Blair. Even in London, the Queen Bee-turned-real-Princess-turned-Bass makes the gossip pages. Jenny rolls her eyes and smacks him with the magazine he's "browsing." She's looking good, the right side of stick thin with less eyeliner and more smiles. Her daughter, Amelia, is equally beautiful and Dan thinks his heart might burst whenever he sees her.

On his last night in London, they get royally fucked on several bottles of cheap wine, and Jenny lets him talk about Blair without hitting, burning or kicking him. For the first time in years, he feels like himself again.

* * *

Blair travels. Her father and Cyrus come with her for a while but the majority of the journey is on her own. She sleeps in budget hotels, takes the trains and even, for a day or two, hitch-hikes. She writes everything down in a moleskin, her thoughts and experiences and the mess of emotions that flick through her mind, before mailing it to Brooklyn when she's standing by the Eiffel Tower.

* * *

The moleskin is waiting for Dan when he arrives home. He reads it cover to cover.

He is so proud of her.

* * *

When she arrives home, she's greeted by Dorota, Vanya and baby. She's never been happier to see them. Vanya carries her bags while Dorota fusses and the baby gurgles and waves chubby little fists in the air. Blair watches them manoeuvre their daughter into the car, everything so natural to them, and the beauty of it all stings her chest.

She has Vanya drop her off in Brooklyn. Dorota kisses her on the cheek as she opens the cab door and Blair smiles.

* * *

He's left the spare key in the same place. She opens the door and he's sitting on the sofa, her notebook in his lap. He's marked it with red pen, just as she used to with his. She can see the corners of certain pages marked down, passages underlined, doodles in the margins. She's sent him her story, her apology, in a way only he can understand.

He stands and he isn't remotely surprised to see her there. Two years ago, he would have hated her. Insults would have poured off his lips, diatribe after diatribe – pottery might even have been thrown, although he had very little worth breaking.

He realised a long time ago that it wasn't worth finding the energy to hate Blair Waldorf.

* * *

Blair crosses the living room floor until she's stood straight in front of Dan. He looks tired but well. She is glowing, the excitement of travel written all across her face.

"It was really well written" Dan says, and she smiles softly.

"I'm ready to be me," she replies, and stretches up to meet his lips. His arms lock around her waist as she slides her hands around his neck.

They're home.


End file.
